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WITH A FIELD AMBULANCE AT YPRES 



I 




THE CLOTH HALL, YPRES 



WITH A 

FIELD AMBULANCE 

AT YPRES 

BEING LETTERS WRITTEN 
MARCH 7 — ^AUGUST 1 5, I915 

BY 

William Boyd 

PROFESSOR OF PATHOLOGY^ UNIVERSITY OF 
MANITOBA 

ILLUSTRATED 




NEW YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 






COPYRIGHT, 1916, 
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



NOV -21s 16 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



'GI.A445451 



TO 

THE DEAR MEMORY 

OF 

MY MOTHER 



PREFACE 

The present volume does not pretend to 
be a book. It is a diary, written in the 
kitchens of French farmhouses, in muddy 
dug-outs, and other unromantic places, 
and sent home to friends from time to 
time. ^ In most cases the account was writ- 
ten within twenty-four hours of the events 
described. 

Its sole justification is that it is a rec- 
ord of facts, experiences, and emotions, be- 
fore the facts had become tinged with fic- 
tion, the experiences had lost their orig- 
inal sharpness, and the emotions had been 
erased by the moving finger of time. 

William Boyd. 

Winnipeg, 
August^ igi6. 



CONTENTS 







PAGE 


I. 


Up to the Firing Line . . 


15 


II. 


Behind Neuve Chapelle . 


22 


III. 


Initiation 


31 


IV. 


A Midnight Visitor . . . 


43 


V. 


A Day with the Gunners . 


51 


VI. 


Gas 


60 


VII. 


In the Field Again . . . 


68 


VIII. 


The Burning of Ypres . . 


78 


IX. 


A City of the Dead . . . 


82 


X. 


Warm Nights Round Hell 






Corner 


. 90 


XL 


A Dinner in Goggles . . 


lOI 


XII. 


Last Days at the Front . 


104 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

The Cloth Hall, Ypres . . Frontispiece --' 

PAGE 

A DuG-OuT 52v^ 

Canadl^ns Suffering from Gas Poison- 
ing 66, 

The City of the Dead 84 ^^ 

The Chancel, Ypres Cathedral . . 88, 

A Soldier's Cemetery 106 ' 



WITH A FIELD AMBULANCE AT YPRES 



"And every mound of Flemish earth 
Shall witness bear, as men go by, 
That greater things than Life and Death 
Are Truth and Right, which cannot die." 



WITH A FIELD 
AMBULANCE AT YPRES 



UP TO THE FIRING LINE 

March 7, IQ15. 
At 8.30 last night the transport which 
carried our Field Ambulance cast off its 
moorings and slowly swung away from 
the land. It was an impressive sight. 
The sides of the ship were lined by men 
gazing in silence at the land that many 
of them were never to see again, the boats 
were swung out ready to be lowered at 
a moment's notice, sentries with loaded 
rifles and fixed bayonets kept guard over 
the bridge, the poop, and the stern where 
the life belts were stored, and on the deck 
stood great rafts with twenty handles on 
each side which would float off if the ship 
were torpedoed. Gradually we gathered 
way and soon the tugs were cast off, and 
we glided out into the darkness of the 

[15] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

night. For about half an hour we pro- 
ceeded thus. Then suddenly from my 
post on the lower bridge I became aware 
of a long, lean, dark, venomous-looking 
shape on the starboard bow, and a com- 
manding voice hailed us through a mega- 
phone: "There is a light showing at one 
of your ports — put it out, and don't let 
your speed drop below fourteen knots. '^ 
It was our escort. A light twinkled at the 
masthead of the dark shape, which was 
at once answered by a corresponding light 
on our port side, and the two destroyers 
swung round and began to slide through 
the water, one on either side of us. 

Soon we became aware of a great beam 
of light stretching right across the chan- 
nel, a beam through which every boat had 
to pass. And now searchhght after 
searchlight came into view, sweeping to 
and fro on the face of the waters, and 
lighting up the whole channel like a vast 
ballroom. Suddenly one of the beams 
fastened on to us, the whole ship became 
a blaze of light, and we could see^ our 
low-lying, sinister-looking escort on either 
side. We signalled to the fort and were 
allowed to proceed on our way. 

For long I watched that wonderful dis- 
[i6] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

play of illumination and when at last I 
turned round I found that we had left 
land behind, and were in the open Chan- 
nel. Looking over the side, one could 
not help wondering if the unseen enemy 
was lurking in those dark depths, but all 
went well, until all at once a dim form 
loomed up right in front of us, and a hur- 
ried hail, "What ship is that, and where 
the hell are you going?" came from a col- 
lier which we had nearly run down. Of 
course we were travelling with all lights 
out. Just as the grey dawn was begin- 
ning to break over the grey sea, our two 
destroyers suddenly swung round as if op- 
erated by a single lever and disappeared 
in the sea fog, and as the light brightened 
we found that we had reached our desti- 
nation, for in front of us lay the Coast of 
France. 

March 9, 1915, 

Two days ago we arrived at our base, 
and spent the whole day getting the ship 
unloaded. The unloading was not fin- 
ished till 7.30 P.M., at which hour we got 
an order to march the men to a certain 
ralhvay shed, where they were to spend 
the night. After some delay we got all 
the men together in the dark, and with a 

[17] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

guide at the head of the party started off 
for the shed. We marched through end- 
less docks, and at last arrived at the 
longed-for shed, which we found to be 
filled with about a thousand artillery- 
horses. There was nothing for it but to 
look about for some other shelter. We 
found a tiny shed, into which we just man- 
aged to squeeze all the men; and as they 
had straw, a blanket each, and their furry 
coats they were able to make themselves 
fairly comfortable. The officers, how- 
ever, had to be content with the cobbles 
outside; and a somewhat hard and chilly 
bed they made in the biting north wind 
which blew strongly from the sea. 

Early next morning we entrained. Our 
?rain was the biggest thing in trains I have 
ever sat eyes on, and must have been 
nearly a quarter of a mile in length. The 
horses and men travelled in trucks, eight 
horses and thirty men to a truck; and very 
funny the men looked, clad in their furry 
coats, peering over the sides of the trucks 
like some newly discovered species of wild 
animal. The officers travelled in comfort 
in first- and second-class carriages, and 
slept in a truck the floor of which was 
covered with straw. 
[i8] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

The last arrangements were completed, 
and the long train steamed slowly out of 
the station. Much of the country we 
passed through was very charming and 
pastoral, with primrose-covered banks 
and larch buds already beginning to open, 
children waving their hands to us, and the 
bells ringing for church — it was Sunday 
morning — but when you put your head 
out of the window you could not help 
remembering that the line which wound 
away into the distance stretched right up 
to Railhead, and at Railhead there awaited 
work for us to do. All that day we trav- 
elled at a rate of from ten to twenty miles 
an hour, with an occasional halt for a few 
minutes at a station to coal up or take in 
water. As we got nearer to the front we 
jogged over country as flat as Holland, in- 
tersected with canals, and studded with 
windmills, the real Low Country of 
French Flanders. 

We detrained at the little town of 
Cassel, and proceeded to march along a 
ridge on the other side of which the coun- 
try was as flat as a pancake as far as the 
eye could reach, and over which was 
blowing an icy north-east blast, which must 

[19] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

have come straight from the Steppes of 
Russia. It was a journey full of fasci- 
nation for newcomers, for Ypres was only- 
twenty miles, and the firing line fifteen 
miles away, and somewhere in that low- 
ly'mg land were the German trenches. 
Every now and then we could hear a great 
''boom" coming from that mysterious 
tract of country, and soon we espied an 
aeroplane away up in the grey sky com- 
ing to have a look at us. One feature 
of the country is the little sentry-boxes at 
the cross-roads, each covered with straw 
so as to be invisible to aircraft and con- 
taining a French soldier and perhaps a 
black-robed cure. All day long the sound 
of guns was in our ears, and now and 
then an aeroplane would drone by over- 
head. More and more houses showed 
gaping shell holes in the roof and crum- 
bling walls; here and there were little 
wayside graves bearing the names of 
English officers, and one tavern bore 
the strange legend: "Aux annees terribles 
1 9 14-19 1 5." Darkness came on and still 
we marched along. At length, shortly 
after ten o'clock, we reached a couple 
of farm houses which had been assigned 

[20] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

us as billets, and very glad we were to 
stretch our wearied limbs on the straw, 
for the pave roads of Northern France 
are hardly ideal for marching. 



[21] 



II 

BEHIND NEUVE CHAPELLE 

March 12, igis. 
A WONDERFULLY interesting day. We 
are billeted at a farm about three miles 
from Neuve Chapelle, where very heavy 
fighting is in progress, and this morning 
I had to ride into the little town which 
is at present the Divisional Headquarters 
of the Canadians. I found the streets 
blocked with every variety of vehicle, the 
most numerous being the A. S. C. wagons 
of the Canadians. In the centre of the 
town is a cross-roads, at which were sta- 
tioned two of the military police, and 
they certainly had their hands full. It 
was like a bit of Piccadilly or the Strand. 
There were ammunition wagons, A. S. C. 
wagons, guns drawn by mules, motor am- 
bulances, staff officers in big cars, order- 
lies on motor bicycles, and all the rag-tag 
and bobtail on horses of all sizes and 
colours. 
[22] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

From there I rode on to the little town 
of Estaires, where I found several great 
gaps in the church roof, as the Germans 
had been shelling it during the night. No 
sooner had I entered the place than I saw 
that something was afoot, for every one 
was running towards the market place. 
When I arrived there I was just in time 
to see a great spectacle. The square was 
lined with French soldiers in their pic- 
turesque blue tunics and red breeches, with 
fixed bayonets; here and there were Brit- 
ish staff officers; on the balconies and at 
the windows there was a sea of faces; 
while over everything there hung a gen- 
eral air of expectation. Suddenly, away 
in the distance, could be heard the sound 
of marching feet, and as the sound grew 
nearer a great hush fell upon the waiting 
multitude, till round the corner of the 
square came a column of men, bedraggled, 
covered with mud from head to foot, many 
of them wounded with heads swathed in 
bloody bandages and arms suspended in 
slings; some dejected, others apathetic, but 
all utterly weary with the weariness of 
defeat. It was a column of four hundred 
German prisoners, captured that morning 
at Neuve Chapelle. On each side marched 

[23] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

the British escort, also mudstained and 
weary, but plainly the conquerors. It was 
a sight to stir the imagination. But the 
populace behaved splendidly. Not a mur- 
mur or groan was to be heard from those 
French people, who had cause to hate the 
name of German more bitterly than any- 
thing else on earth. The moment the 
prisoners had passed a magnificent pro- 
cession of British lancers clattered up the 
street on their way to Neuve Chapelle. 
There were six or seven hundred of them, 
with maxims in the rear, and the contrast 
to the jaded Germans was dramatic in the 
extreme. I rode in the rear of the lancers, 
and soon we met horse-ambulances filled 
with wounded Indians, then a small body 
of Highlanders, then some French cav- 
alry, then a battery of Canadian field ar- 
tillery. Truly life is not dull at present. 

March 13, 1913. 
The lancers and artillery riding out to 
the firing line is one side of war. To-day 
I have seen the other side, for I have 
spent the greater part of the day at a 
dressing-station attending to the wounded 
who were being brought in straight from 
the trenches. The fighting at Neuve Cha- 

[24] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

pelle has, of course, been desperate in 
the extreme, and during the last three days 
an incessant stream of wounded has been 
pouring through this dressing-station. 
Several of our officers have, therefore, 
been detailed to assist the ambulance peo- 
ple who were ready to drop in their places 
from utter exhaustion, and we started on 
our duties this morning. 

The whole training of a medical man 
tends to inure him to unpleasant sights and 
smells, but I must confess that we needed 
all our training this morning. The dress- 
ing-station was formerly a school, and 
every room was so packed with wounded, 
lying on stretchers on the floor, that it was 
with the greatest difficulty that we could 
move about. It was literally almost im- 
possible to put your foot down without 
treading on a wounded man. The condi- 
tion of the wounds was indescribable, for 
many of them were two days old, and 
during that time the wounded men had 
simply lain out on the battlefield, the furi- 
ous fighting rendering the evacuation of 
casualties an impossibility. In this coun- 
try of heavily-manured soil every wound 
becomes septic at once, and unless treated 
thoroughly it soon swarms with the mi- 

[25] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

crobes of putrefaction. You may imagine 
what the condition of these great gaping 
cavities was at the end of forty-eight 
hours. There were all sorts and condi- 
tions of wounded, from a Colonel of the 
Guards, who died shortly after admission, 
to English, Scotch, Indian, and even Ger- 
man privates. One poor Scotch laddie, 
whose bowels were hanging outside his 
abdomen, told me that he came from Fife. 
It was quite like a message from home to 
hear the broad, kindly Scot's tongue 
again. "I've an awfu' sair belly, doctor," 
was the only complaint the poor boy made. 
The general behaviour of the men was 
superb ; not a cry and hardly a groan was 
to be heard, while lumps of shrapnel and 
and jagged pieces of shell were being ex- 
tracted from deep down in the muscles. In 
some instances the men appeared to be 
partly anaesthetised by the extreme fatigue 
from which they suffered — a merciful dis- 
pensation. The head Injuries were the 
most frightful, for in some cases the 
greater part of the face was smashed in 
by shrapnel, while in others the nose, eye, 
and greater part of the cheek had been 
torn away, leaving a great, red, bleeding 
cavity. 
[26] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

But enough of horrors. As I rode back 
to our billet, I noticed that the blackthorn 
twigs are already beginning to show white 
— the first touch of spring is in this bleak 
land. 

March 14, 19 15. 
A lovely, peaceful Sunday morning, 
mild, balmy, brilliant sunshine, larks sing- 
ing, spring in the air, but always the boom 
of the big guns. I have been basking in 
the sun In front of our farm reading "The 
Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft," very 
dehghtful, style perfect. On one page 
there Is a drade against conscription, and 
indeed mlHtary service of all kinds, de- 
scribing the drill as degrading and debas- 
ing — rather amusing reading just now 
when we have had such abundant proof 
that the opposite is the case. The only 
book of my own which I carry is a copy 
of selections from Browning; it is like 
having an old friend with me. We had 
church parade this morning to the accom- 
paniment of the noise of guns and the 
drone of aeroplanes. No doubt we shall 
get accustomed to these contrasts when 
we have been here some time, but at first 
they strike one very vividly. 

[27] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

March 17, 1915. 

Yesterday the brigade moved to a new 
area, and we with them. We are now quite 
close to the Belgian Frontier, and I hope 
we shall cross it one of these days. I 

share a tent with H . It is curious 

to lie In the quiet of the night, and sud- 
denly to hear the rattle of machine guns 
or volley upon volley of rifle firing; on 
looking out of the door you see star-lights 
lighting up the sky, and shells bursting on 
the plain below, for our camp is pitched 
on a slight slope which counts as a moun- 
tain in this country of dead flatness. 

Yesterday's march was quite a strenu- 
ous one. An army on the march Is the 
queerest sight in the world. You imag- 
ine great rows of men in neat uni- 
forms swinging along to the sound 
of the band. Nothing could be fur- 
ther from the truth ! As you see the 
column winding away In front of you (and 
you may see it for a couple of miles in this 
flat land), It looks like an Immense tink- 
ers' encampment on the move, for the 
greater part of the column consists of 
wagons — baggage wagons — ammunition 
limbers, horse ambulances, motor ambu- 
lances, water carts, camp cookers busy 
[28] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

preparing a meal for the men at the end 
of the march, mules laden with entrench- 
ing tools, etc., etc. The men also are 
hung around with haversacks, mess tins, 
water bottles, ground sheets, etc., till they 
look like veritable bagmen. An officer's 
rig-out consists of a Sam-Browne belt, one 
or two haversacks, water bottle, field 
glasses, compass, map case, revolver, car- 
tridge pouch, and anything else he likes to 
stick on. When the whole procession is 
on the move it is really a great sight. 

March 21, 1915. 
Yesterday we marched to Armentieres 
for a few days of instruction in field work. 
We followed one of the Routes Nation- 
ales, a great highway stretching In an al- 
most straight line for miles, with tall 
poplars on either side all the way, and 
not even a hillock on which to rest the 
eye. It is In Tristram Shandy, I think, 
that we are told that "the army In Flan- 
ders swore horribly." If the roads then 
were anything like what they are now I 
think that the profanity ought to be par- 
doned, for the pave certainly is abom- 
inable stuf^ to march on, and at the end 

[29] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

of the day your feet are very sore and 
wearied indeed. 

To-day a party of us visited the Divi- 
sional Clearing Station, where the men of 
the — th Division are bathed, have their 
clothes thoroughly washed and disinfected, 
and are given a completely fresh outfit — 
tunic, trousers, shirt, vest, pants, and 
socks. The building Is an old bleaching 
station, but has been largely refitted. A 
regular army of women are employed In 
the laundry, one of the most Important 
parts of which Is the Ironing room, which 
proves the cemetery of most of the eggs 
of the lice. These bathing places have 
had a wonderful effect on the health of 
the troops. You need to be really dirty 
for a few weeks before you can under- 
stand anything of the delight of being 
clean. 



[30] 



Ill 

INITIATION 

March 23, 1915. 
Last night I had to take out a party 
of stretcher bearers to collect the wounded 
from a certain regimental aid-post, a very 
interesting experience. The exposed part 
of the road is not long, but while we were 
on it bullets kept singing past in the dark, 
producing a curious sinking sensation in 
my epigastric region, and an intense long- 
ing to become like the mathematical point, 
which, as Euclid assures us, has position 
but no magnitude. When for the first time 
you hear a bullet with its long-drawn 
"wh-e-e-w" crossing the road on which 
you are walking you experience a remark- 
able disinclination to move forward rap- 
idly, and a great and affectionate yearn- 
ing for the ditch at the side of the road. 
I believe, however, that you soon get over 
these preliminary feelings of discomfort, 
and you forget all about bullets when 
shells begin to fly around. 

[31] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

On our return journey we passed a row 
of houses, most of which had been reduced 
to ruins by shell fire. At the end of the 
row there stood a church, which had been 
shelled three or four times a week for the 
last four months, and the tower of which 
had been blown to pieces three days ago. 
The church was little more than a heap of 
ruins. The Germans have a machine gun 
trained on the corner where the church 
stands, and now and then they open fire 
in the hope of getting somebody. And yet 
the cure has lived in his house all through 
the winter, although that house is only 
fifteen yards from the church, and every 
window in it had been broken. At any 
hour of the day you may see the priest go- 
ing about visiting the sick, comforting the 
bereaved, burying the dead, and cheering 
the survivors. That is what Kipling would 
call "a proper sort of padre." * 

This afternoon I actually went to a 
variety entertainment given by some of 
the — th Division, who call themselves 
"the Follies." The performance took 
place in a little building adjoining the tech- 
nical school, which must have been built 

* A month later the cure was killed at his post 
of duty. 

[32] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

as a theatre or concert hall, for there was 
a stage, footlights, curtain and scenery. 
The party was got up just like the Fol- 
lies, the stage was decorated with Chinese 
lanterns, and everything went with a 
swing and without a hitch of any kind, 
for there was plenty of talent in the com- 
pany. The hall was crowded from floor 
to ceiling — ^brigadier-generals, colonels, 
subalterns and Tommies. And suddenly 
you realised what it all meant. These men 
in their grotesque costumes singing hu- 
morous or sentimental songs, these crowds 
of officers and men in an audience which 
seemed to contain representatives from al- 
most every regiment in the army, had, 
many of them, come from the trenches and 
would return there in a few hours, or from 
the guns, or from aeroplanes. And this 
delightfully amusing show was being held 
only a couple of miles behind the firing 
line, and well within range of the German 
artillery. If a Prussian officer had walked 
into that hall I think he would have been 
considerably astonished. To me it was 
a very wonderful experience. 

To-morrow we leave Armentleres, as 
our course of instruction is finished. This 
is a very quiet part of the line, and that 

[33] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

no doubt is the reason why we were sent 
here, but we have at least learned what it 
feels like to have a bullet singing past 
one's ear. So far I have said nothing 
about the place itself. It is a large manu- 
facturing town, which shows very little 
evidence of war in the way of ruined build- 
ings, and quite a large proportion of the 
population has remained. There has been 
hardly any serious shelling of the town — 
very different from what one hears of 
Ypres. I forgot to say that last night the 
news came in of the fall of Przemysl, and 
when it reached our men in the trenches 
you could hear round upon round of 
cheering. When the Germans heard of 
the loss of our ships in the Dardanelles 
they gave vent to similar expressions of 
joy. 

April 2, 1915. 
We are having a spell of delightful 
weather after the bitter east winds that 
have prevailed ever since we landed; it 
is balmy, sunny, and genial, and at last 
it seems that "the hounds of Spring are 
on Winter's traces." The early morning 
to-day was just perfect, and it is a blessing 
that we have to get up so early. Physical 
drill at seven o'clock on an April morn- 

[34] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

Ing with the sun already blazing down 
from a cloudless heaven is worth getting 
up for. Such a day as this makes one 
long to be in some of the good places of 
the earth instead of this billiard-table land 
of endless ploughed fields. Imagine such 
a morning as this in the jaws of Borrow- 
dale with Derwentwater gleaming through 
the birches, or on the cliffs between the 
Logan Rock and Land's End, or on that 
winding road along Loch Long which will 
soon be a mass of violets and primroses, 
or amongst the pines of Lake Louise, or 
on the snows of Mount Sir Donald. But 
I suppose that we did not come out here 
for scenic effects, and if you choose to 
fight in the Low Countries you must not 
look for Alpine grandeur, 

A couple of days ago, however, I did 
have a wonderful view. A few miles 
away there is a certain small hill, which 
rises like a cone from the surrounding flat- 
ness, and on top of which there is a Trap- 
pist monastery, now converted into a hos- 
pital. Thither I rode on a lovely morn- 
ing, and as my horse climbed the hill a 
marvellous view gradually unfolded itself. 
In every direction to the furthest horizon 
stretched the great Flanders plain, as flat 

[3S] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

as the palm of a man's hand, save where 
here and there a little knoll broke the dead 
level. Half of Belgium seemed to lie 
spread out in front of me. It is little 
wonder that the Germans chose this flat 
land for the great steam-roller of their ad- 
vance, instead of the wooded, hilly, and 
highly fortified line of the Franco-German 
frontier. 

April 3, 1915. 
I had a really great time last night, and 
I now feel that I have passed out of the 
novitiate stage. Our division is to hold 
part of the line running in front of Neuve 
Eglise, a little place just over the Belgian 

frontier, and M and I came over last 

night to see how the evacuation of 
wounded was worked before the rest of 
the unit should arrive. We reached our 
future headquarters, a farm about a mile 
on our side of the village, at nine o'clock, 
and made the acquaintance of the ambu- 
lance whom we were to relieve on the mor- 
row. After a short time spent in their 
mess-room we started out with one of 
their officers and the chaplain who were 
to act as guides. I need hardly say that 
it is not advisable to start out on a pitch 
dark night in an unknown country and 

[36] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

find your way to a house just behind the 
firing line without a guide. You are apt 
to get into situations such as you did not 
reckon on. 

Soon we entered the village of Neuve 
Eglise, which we found in a very battered 
condition. One of the first buildings we 
came to had been used as a dressing-sta- 
tion by our predecessors until three weeks 
ago, when a couple of shells crashed 
through the roof and converted the place 
into a shambles. One of the next build- 
ings was a nunnery, roofless and with 
crumbling walls, and many of the other 
houses were in a similar condition. A few 
of the inhabitants still live on in the cel- 
lars, outside which are great piles of sand- 
bags, for the Germans put about a dozen 
shells into the place every day. In the 
road there are great gaping holes made by 
recent shells, which constitute a very real 
danger to the horses and men in the dark- 
ness, for of course we were unable to show 
a light of any kind. Our party consisted 
of a dozen stretcher bearers and two horse 
ambulance wagons. 

Leaving the village behind we tramped 
along the dark road for a couple of miles. 
It was raining steadily, but even under 

[37] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

those conditions it was a fascinating walk, 
with the unending rows of poplars tower- 
ing mysteriously above our heads; in the 
branches the wind moaned drearily, and 
overhead the dark clouds scudded by. 
Every now and then the whole sky would 
be lit up by the flares on the firing line, 
and once we saw a bright red glow which 
proved to come from a burning farm fired 
by the German shells. The night, how- 
ever, was wonderfully quiet. Not a gun 
and hardly a rifle shot was to be heard. 
There seemed to be a general truce on 
both sides. 

Now the object of our expedition was 
to collect the casualties from two regimen- 
tal aid posts, which lay more than half 
a mile apart. It is perfectly safe going 
as far as the first, for the ground rises 
between the road and the German 
trenches, but beyond that there is no shel- 
ter of any kind, and it is not reckoned 
a healthy place to linger in. We reached 
the first of the aid posts, a little, solitary, 
wayside house, apparently absolutely de- 
serted, and producing a most dismal effect 
upon the onlooker, especially under the 
conditions which prevailed that night. Not 
a ray of light came from the door or win- 

[38] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

dows. On the other side of the road there 
was a little military cemetery where the 
dead of the day were buried under cover 
of darkness. The little wooden crosses 
could just be made out against the dark 
sky. The whole scene recalled irresistibly 
some lines of Emile Caemmaert's, which 
I came across a few days ago, and of 
which the following is a translation : 

A hundred yards from the trenches, 
Close to the battle front, 
There stands a little house. 
Lonely and desolate. 

Not a cry, not a sound, not a life, not a mouse, 
Only the stillness of the great graveyards, 
Only the crosses, the crooked wooden crosses, 
On the wide lonely plain. 

A low thatched cottage. 
With doors and shutters closed, 
The roof torn by a shell. 
Standing out of the floods alone. 

Not a man, not a cat, not a dog, not a soul. 
Only a flight of crows along the railway line, 
The sound of our boots on the muddy road. 
And, along the Yser, the twinkling fires. 

We entered the little house and found 
it full of wounded. The regimental med- 

[39] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

ical officer lived there — a strange sort of 
existence. The window was carefully 
screened, so that no light would be visible 
to the Bosche, otherwise the place would 
soon have been made uninhabitable. The 
room was lit by two guttering candles 
stuck in empty bottles. The wind howled 
round the corners of the house and down 
the chimney in a manner calculated to give 
any one the blues. The place was almost 
bare of furniture; and yet the medical of- 
ficer looked upon it as his home, for he 
had lived there for the last two months, 
and often it had served him as a refuge 
from the storm, "when the blast of the 
terrible ones Is as a storm against the 
wall." And indeed as we listened we could 
hear the crackle of rifles beginning, and 
the vicious rat-tat-tat-tat of a machine gun, 
and a few bullets flattened themselves 
against the wall. Evidently the enemy 
were beginning to wake up. We loaded 
the wounded on to the ambulances and 
set off for the next aid-post. No sooner 
had we got out of the door than half a 
dozen star-lights went up, showing every 
detail of the country side, and at the same 
time a very lively rifle fire began — the 
enemy were indulging in a spell of "rapid 

[40] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

fire." Bullets began to hum or rather 
whistle through the air, and strike the road 
or the mud on each side of the road. I 
found that my experience at Armentieres 
stood me In good stead; it is the first time 
you meet a bullet in the dark that It pro- 
duces its peculiarly disquieting effect; the 
acuteness of the sensation becomes blunted 
with repetition, although it is difficult ever 
to get on really friendly terms with these 
presents "made in Germany." 

When we were within a hundred yards 
of the hamlet of Wulverghem, through 
which we had to pass, a gun went off some- 
where behind the German lines, followed 
by the weirdest shriek or screech that I 
had ever heard, which increased in intens- 
ity until it reached its maximum just over 
our heads, and then with an ear-splitting 
crack the shrapnel burst. I was reduced 
to a condition of abject fear, and crouched 
trembling in the middle of the road, for 
I thought that my last moment had come. 
I had been walking with our two guides, 
but when I assumed a more erect attitude 
I found myself alone. Soon, however, a 
couple of dark forms emerged from the 
ditch at the side of the road, and I learned 
that when a shell is going to burst just over 

[41] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

your head It is not bad form to take what 
cover you can. You may be sure that 
we did not take long to reach the nearest 
house of the hamlet, and no sooner were 
we under the shelter of its wall than 
"bang" went the gun again, again that 
long-drawn shriek, and this time the shell 
burst right over the square where we were 
standing, lighting up the darkness with 
its angry glare. The effect produced, how- 
ever, was very different, and the symptoms 
of terror did not return. Shells kept pass- 
ing overhead, but the range was gradually 
Increased, and we could hear them burst- 
ing on the road to Neuve Egllse. It was 
evident that the Germans had opened fire 
on the village in the hope of catching trans- 
port in the square, and now they were 
searching the road between Wulverghem 
and Neuve Egllse. When things had 
quieted down a bit we picked up the 
wounded from the second post and made 
our way home in the rain and darkness 
without further Incident, except that the 
whole ambulance was nearly capsized In 
a huge shell hole. Thus ended a great 
and memorable night, the night of Good 
Friday. 

[42] 



IV 

A MIDNIGHT VISITOR 

April 8, 191 5. 
To my great sorrow I have had to say 
good-bye to work in the field, for I have 
been placed in charge of an infectious dis- 
ease hospital at Bailleul, a small French 
town about three miles from Neuve Eglise. 
The work, however, is full of interest, for 
we get in a tremendous variety of cases. 
Thus at the present moment we have ex- 
amples of the following diseases: measles, 
German measles, mumps, scarlet fever, 
diphtheria, typhoid fever and cerebro- 
spinal meningitis. In addition to the hos- 
pital itself we have a small farm which 
is used for suspected cases of cerebro- 
spinal meningitis. There is a regular epi- 
demic of measles raging In this district, 
and cases are even sent down from the 
trenches, greatly, as a rule, to the disgust 
of the patient. The great problem which 
confronts one each day is how to evacuate 

[43] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

the cases, for the ambulance train running 
to the base will seldom take more than one 
type of infectious disease; but with the 
help of a convoy of motor ambulances the 
difficulty can usually be overcome. 

A certain amount of bacteriological 
knowledge comes in very handy in this 
work. For instance, a few days ago the 
ambulance brought a patient to the door. 
His face was very inflamed, and on his 
cheek were a number of pustules. Before 
admitting the case I pricked one of these 
blisters, smeared the contents on a slide, 
and in a few minutes was able to demon- 
strate under the microscope large numbers 
of anthrax bacilli. The case was one of 
anthrax, and was at once sent further down 
the line for surgical and serum treatment. 
A fortnight ago I saw another case of 
anthrax of the cheek, in which the infec- 
tion had come from the furry coat of the 
soldier, who had used it as a pillow. It 
is, however, in typhoid and cerebro-spinal 
meningitis that a bacteriological examina- 
tion is of the greatest value. 

April 13, 191 5. 
It is quite an age since I made an entry 
in this diary, because nothing very star- 

[44] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

tling had happened. Now that something 
startling has happened I take up my pen 
again. Life has threatened to become dull 
after our little midnight expeditions to 
the firing line, but last night the Germans 
were good enough to relieve the monotony 
for us. 

I was in bed fast asleep when suddenly 
there was a tremendous explosion, fol- 
lowed by another, and then another. At 
first I thought the place was being shelled, 
so I hurriedly slipped into a few clothes 
and went out to see what was really hap- 
pening, for it might be necessary to move 
the patients into a position of greater 
safety. The terrific explosions continued, 
and by this time machine guns had joined 
in, followed soon by rifle fire. No sooner 
had I got out than I discovered that a 
Zeppelin was over the town, and was busily 
employed bombing the place. It was no 
mere incendiary shells that were being 
used, but the largest high-explosive bombs. 
In the midst of the noise you could hear 
floating down from above the whirr of the 
airship's engines. Every now and then 
came the long whistle of the great bomb 
as it fell from a height of about three 
thousand feet, a sound which at first pro- 

[45] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

duced a somewhat unpleasant sensation in 
one's scalp. By this time shrapnel and 
bits of anti-aircraft shell were beginning 
to patter on the roofs around, and things 
were assuming a general air of liveliness. 
Presently, however, the terrific explosions 
ceased, the airship drew off, and quiet 
reigned once more. 

This morning I went to have a look at 
the damage. The holes were enormous, 
one being twelve feet deep and sixty feet 
in circumference. As usual, it was the 
wretched civilians who were the sufferers. 
Three were killed, an old woman of sev- 
enty, a girl of eighteen, and a baby of 
three months, and a number were seriously 
injured. The military escaped altogether, 
with the exception of one sentry, who got 
a slight scratch. It was a typical night's 
work on the part of the Bosche. The 
apparently selective action of these great 
engines of destruction is responsible for 
some remarkable escapes. Two bombs 
fell close to a house where several of our 
men are billetted. They blew a kennel 
to pieces, but the dog Inside escaped, al- 
though rather badly shaken, and the men 
in the house were unhurt. A man was 
sleeping on a wagon close to which a bomb 

[46] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

burst. He was thrown some distance off 
the floor of the wagon, but was none the 
worse. I went to have a look at the house 
where the old woman who was killed used 
to live. It was represented by a huge hole 
in the ground filled with a confused pile 
of shattered tables, chairs and iron bed- 
steads. The old woman and the baby 
were found at the bottom of this hole. 
Can you wonder that the French think 
hard and bitter things about the Germans, 
or that the entire people have thrown 
themselves into the struggle with a whole- 
heartedness that makes us feel, and I think 
rightly feel, that so far we have only been 
playing at war. Good honest beer for 
the British workmen, good sound trade 
unionism for the skilled worker, are no 
doubt very excellent things, but somehow 
the Frenchman has passed into another 
and a higher world of thought. It is not 
that he criticises these things; he simply 
cannot understand them. They leave him 
in a state of silent bewilderment. 

April 14, igi5. 
Last night I was looking at some won- 
derful photographs of Ypres taken in the 
middle of November, 19 14 — the Cloth 

[47] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

Hall in flames, the Cathedral in ruins. I 
don't know how it is, but ever since I 
landed in France my one ambition has been 
to see Ypres. Somehow there is no place 
that appeals to the imagination to any- 
thing like the same extent, for there is no 
place where, with regard to its former 
and its present condition, you can say with 
the same truth: "Look upon this picture, 
and on this." Well, to-day I was priv- 
ileged to catch my first glimpse of the 
place. I had to go over to Poperinghe 
in a car. It was a lovely afternoon, and 
in the light of the sinking sun the flat 
countryside took on a beauty it is usually 
far from having. Suddenly between two 
clumps of trees, across the great pastures, 
I caught sight of three towers about five 
miles away. It was Ypres, that ''sweet 
city of the dreaming spires," Ypres, the 
city of the dead, where, as Bright would 
say, you can hear the beating of the wings 
of the Angel of Death. 

April i8, 1915. 

I have been to Ypres. At midday yes- 
terday, M suddenly turned up in a 

big Wolsely car, said that he was off to 
see a case of cerebro-spinal meningitis at 
Ypres, and told me to jump in if I wanted 

[48] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

to have my often-expressed desire ful- 
filled. It did not take me many seconds 
to make up my mind, and, giving my staff- 
sergeant a few hasty instructions as to how 
to carry on in my absence, I boarded the 
car, and off we went. 

We found that we had chosen an un- 
fortunate day, for the road was simply 
choc-a-bloc with troops and their impedi- 
menta as a big move was In progress. We 
had to pass seventy-eight motor busses 
carrying the — th Brigade, besides count- 
less guns, limbers, ammunition wagons, 
etc. The dust was simply awful. As we 
neared Ypres we could see the shrapnel 
bursting around an aeroplane — little white 
puffs against the blue sky. A couple of 
shells fell near our road, making a bit of 
a bang, but nothing to make a fuss about. 

At last we drove into the town itself. 
Just at first it did not produce the impres- 
sion on me that I expected, for much of 
the town is still inhabited, many of the 
original twenty thousand inhabitants still 
live there, shops are open, civilians and 
soldiers are In the streets, ambulances and 
forage carts move about, there is a gen- 
eral feeling of life about the place. But 
when you enter the Grande Place you real- 

[49] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

ise something of what has befallen the 
town. For it was the Grande Place and 
the buildings which stood in it, which were 
the glory of Ypres. The Cloth Hall and 
the Cathedral were the Houses of Parlia- 
ment and the Westminster Abbey of the 
old Flemish city. But it is a Westminster 
Abbey in ruins, and Houses of Parliament 
without roof or windows or doors or ceil- 
ing. It is not a question of a shell hole 
here and there — the whole place has sim- 
ply been smashed to pieces and gutted by 
fire. It is one of the unpardonable things 
that the Germans have done. There have 
been good military reasons for much of 
their destructiveness. In other cases it 
has been unintentional and incidental. But 
modern gunnery does not hit a thing like 
the Cloth Hall of Ypres by mistake. For 
two months, when there was still a chance 
of their taking the place, the Cloth Hall 
was untouched. Then came the great 
fight at the end of October, culminating in 
the attack of the Prussian Guard in the sec- 
ond week of November, under the eyes of 
the Kaiser himself. It failed and the Huns 
slowly and methodically, ohne Hast und 
ohne Rast, just blew the glorious buildings 
to bits. 
[50] 



A DAY WITH THE GUNNERS 

April 22, 19 1 5. 

Yesterday I had a great day with the 
artillery. I had to go and visit my friend 

A , who is medical officer to the — th 

artillery brigade, in connection with some 
work. The headquarters of the brigade 
is at the little village of Kemmel, behind 
which rises Kemmel Hill, one of the great 
artillery observing stations in our line. It 
was a delightful afternoon, and the ride 
to Kemmel took me through far and away 
the most charming bit of country that I 
have seen since coming out here; up hill 
and down dale, through woods where the 
young green of the larch was a constant 
delight to the eyes, with the birds sing- 
ing in the branches, and wood anemones, 
celandines, violets and wild strawberry 
flowers on every side. There is just one 
little bit of hilly country like this; beyond 
in every direction stretches the great plain 

[51] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

of Flanders. Let us be thankful that we 
hold the hills. 

After riding for an hour and a half I 
crossed a rise, and, looking down into the 
hollow beyond, I saw the famous little 
village — it is a mere hamlet — basking in 
the sun below me. The first thing that 
struck me was the enormous number of 
telephone wires that ran in all directions, 
crossing and recrossing till they formed 
a regular network, and looking strangely 
out of place in the midst of such rural sur- 
roundings. These were the various wires 
going from headquarters to the observa- 
tion stations and the batteries, from the 
observation stations to the batteries, and 
from both of these to the fire trenches. 

The next thing that impressed me was 
the deserted appearance of the place. Al- 
though I knew that there were all sorts 
of troops about, hardly a soul was to be 
seen. The reason for this, as I discovered 
later, was that no one was allowed out 
unless on duty. The village is within range 
of rifle fire. Further, you do not want a 
scouting Taube to see a crowd of men 
hanging around the various headquarters, 
and thus learn the position of these im- 
portant buildings. Result — a village ap- 

[52] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

parently containing nothing but civilians, 
with the hot sun baking down from a 
cloudless sky, and a general air of peace 
and slumber over everything, save for the 
remains of half-demolished houses that 
met the eye in every direction. Nothing 
but quiet and peace on this hot afternoon, 
but suddenly there was an explosion so 
close that my horse leapt into the air and 
I nearly fell into the ditch. At first I 
thought that a shell had burst just behind 
me, but it was only one of our own 
howitzers, so artfully concealed that I 
had not noticed it, being fired within a 
few yards of me. 

After a cup of tea at brigade headquar- 
ters, A and I visited several of the 

batteries, and I had a chance of admiring 
the extraordinarily cunning way in which 
the gun positions were hidden both from 
the German lines and from the air. The 
dug-outs where the officers and men on 
duty sleep are great places. You descend 
into a hole in the ground, and find yourself 
In a tiny chamber varying from three to 
five feet in height, roofed with stout tim- 
bers on top of which is a layer of sand- 
bags, with turf sods covering all. In many 
cases ivy was trained over the roof, cow- 

[53] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

slips and violets were planted at the door, 
and outside the mansion called "Fern 
Villa" hung two baskets filled with very 
charming ferns and moss. One officer, 
however, outdistanced all competitors by 
having had a basket of orchids sent over 
from England, which basket he exhibited 
to visitors with the most inordinate pride. 

There is no doubt about it that the gun- 
ners have a much better time of it than 
the infantry. They certainly live in 
greater peace and comfort, and their par- 
ticular method of slaughtering men is full 
of scientific interest. As we passed one 
of the batteries we found the men en- 
gaged in a game of football. Suddenly 
the sharp sound of a whistle was heard. 
In a moment every man was a motionless 
statue. A hostile aeroplane was over- 
head, which would at once have detected 
the gun position if the men had been mov- 
ing about, whereas motionless they are in- 
visible. We stood thus for a couple of 
minutes, and then two blasts v/ere sounded 
on the whistle, and we were free to move 
on again. 

Our first visit was to one of the observa- 
tion stations on Kemmel Hill. The hill 
is covered with trees, and amongst the 

[54] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

trees are numbers of dug-outs, all used 
as observation posts by the various bat- 
teries, but quite invisible until you are act- 
ually upon them, so cunningly are they con- 
cealed. We reached the one for which 
we were bound, and entered. Inside were 
a couple of chairs on which we sat in com- 
fort, and by means of a telescope sus- 
pended from the roof surveyed through 
a narrow opening In the wall the network 
of trenches spread out in the valley at our 
feet. It was a glorious afternoon, ideal 
for observing, and there in front of us, 
spread out before our eyes, was a wonder- 
ful panorama. 

Immediately opposite at a distance of a 
couple of miles were the German trenches, 
and over those lines the shrapnel was 
bursting In little fleecy clouds. Away to 
the left lay Ypres, like some dream city In 
the warm light of the sinking sun, with 
delicate wisps of mist eddying around its 
shattered spires. In between was Hill 60, 
where a furious bombardment was In pro- 
gress. And yet with it all not a living crea- 
ture nor moving thing could be seen for 
miles, and the whole countryside seemed 
as deserted as the Sahara. But it was a 
Sahara swarming with moles, moles who 

[55] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

lived in burrows, who spied at one another 
through peep holes, in whose minds there 
was but one thought — to slay — and who 
shouted at each other with deep-toned 
voices, which carried but one message — 
death. 

At first peace reigned in the dug-out, 
as the battery for which it observed was 
not in action. Presently, however, the 
telephone bell rang. It was an order from 
headquarters for our battery to open fire 
on a certain segment of the enemy's 
trenches. The battery commander turned 
to the telephone orderly with the com- 
mand, "Battery prepare for action," which 
was transmitted to the battery over a mile 
away. At that moment the gunners were 
playing football, but in exactly two and a 
half minutes the message came up along 
the wire, "All ready, sir." There were 
a few moments of tense silence while the 
battery major sat with his eye glued to the 
telescope; then he muttered, "Number one 
— fire!" "Number one — fire!" repeated 
the telephonist. Dead silence, and then 
the word came up, "Number one fired, 
sir." Again absolute silence, and sud- 
denly the shell rushed past overhead shout- 
ing its song of death, and later still the 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

report of the gun came floating up from 
behind. 

Every eye was strained on the enemy's 
trenches, and in a few moments we could 
see the flash and white smoke of the shell 
as it burst over the trenches, but it seemed 
ages before the noise of the explosion 
reached us. The first shell was short and 
a little high, so the range was corrected. 
The next was right for length, but still 
high; the fusing was altered. The third 
was just right, exactly above the trenches, 
and a murmur of satisfaction arose from 
the little group of watchers. Truly the 
gunner is a bloodthirsty man, and I must 
admit that I had certain qualms of pity 
for the poor beggars in the trenches. 

I don't know what it all means, but 
there must be desperate work going on at 
Hill 60 and St. Eloi, which is just tliis 
side of it. I spent the night at Kemmel, 
and at ten o'clock every gun for miles 
around seemed to waken into activity. We 
watched the show from a small platform 
on the roof of the chateau which is used 
as headquarters. Right along the hillside 
there was nothing to be seen but wicked 
red tongues of fire, which seemed to stab 
Into the blackness of the right. The noise 

[57] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

was just like hell let loose. Every kind 
and description of gun was hard at it — 
field guns, howitzers, 4.7's, 9.2's, and even 
the great 15-inch monster, whilst over the 
trenches there was a storm of bursting 
shrapnel and high explosive in which it 
seemed that no man could live. German 
shells screamed over our heads and burst 
on the hill behind, and it was interesting 
and fairly easy to differentiate between the 
sound of our shells and of the enemy's. 

From this scene, full of sound and fury, 
we turned away, descended the stairs, and 
entered the sitting-room, which was at the 
other side of the house. Here was 
comparative silence, an atmosphere of 
peace, little of the hubbub penetrat- 
ing the heavily shuttered windows. 
But at the table sat a man with a telephone 
receiver at his ear, and as the messages 
came in from the forward observing sta- 
tion in the trenches describing the accuracy 
and extent of our fire, the necessary orders 
were sent out of that quiet room, down to 
the gunners at the batteries. Suddenly in 
the midst of all the turmoil and excitement 
the telephone bell rang, and a message 
came in from some one far away, some 

[58] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

one unaware that any battle was In pro- 
gress: "Please send In a return at once of 
the number of great coats in your bri- 
gade!" 



[59] 



VI 

GAS 

April 23, 1915. 
I HAVE just heard some very bad news. 
If it is true, then the battle I watched from 
Kemmel was a really big affair. The di- 
visional staff slept in their clothes last 
night. 

Later. 

Have just heard that things have righted 
themselves. The Germans broke through 
the French hne north of Ypres and pushed 
it back a couple of miles. Then Canadi- 
ans came up and drove Germans right 
back to their original lines. Have just 
seen a hundred and thirty wounded Ca- 
nadians come in. All in great spirits, and 
seem to have given Germans a pretty bad 
time. Incendiary shells are falling in 
Ypres, which is on fire in two places. Can 
hear tremendous bombardment going on. 
Warned to be ready to rejoin for field 
work at a moment's notice. 

[60] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

April 24, igi5. 

What a time we have been having dur- 
ing the last two days ; nothing but rumours 
of retreat and advance, defeat and vic- 
tory. Before breakfast I met a Royal 
Flying Corps officer who told me that the 
Germans had broken through the French 
line— the French have a Turco division 
between us and the Belgians — at a place 
called Langemarck, and that the French 
had fallen back four miles. 

Soon more news began to filter through. 
The Canadian division, who were on the 
right of the French, found themselves in 
danger of being hung up in the air, so 
they also had to fall back. All sorts of 
alarmist rumours came in that the Ca- 
nadians had been nearly wiped out, and 
that the fall of Ypres might be expected 
at any moment. Then the news came that 
Poperinghe was being shelled, and that 
Ypres was on fire. Both of these reports 
turned out to be correct. Poperinghe, 
which was full of hospitals, and which 
was regarded as being in every way safe, 
has been bombarded with twelve-inch 
shells. All the hospitals have been cleared 
out, as well as the mobile laboratory sta- 
tioned there, and almost the whole civilian 

[61] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

population has fled. Those who remain 
are probably spies. Every hour we hear 
of new places coming within range of the 
German guns, and it may be the turn of 
Bailleul next. Three French army corps 
are reported as being rushed up, and this 
morning I met the — th division on its 
way from Armentieres to Ypres. 

The Canadians seem to have put up a 
splendid fight, but lost very heavily. Yes- 
terday evening the wounded began to come 
in, whole motor convoys of them, but they 
could only give a very confused account of 
what was happening. All last night the 
traffic was incessant through the streets 
of Bailleul, ammunition carts going up 
to the firing line, ambulances bringing 
wounded down to the clearing hospitals. 
All night long the sound of tremendous 
cannonading came down the wind, min- 
gled with almost continuous rifle fire. 

This morning more news came in with 
the ambulance convoys. The convoys 
themselves had had a pretty bad time. 
Apparently there had been a night of ter- 
rific confused fighting in the fields, men 
simply going for one another with the 
bayonet or clubbed rifle by the light of 
the bursting shells, no man knowing where 

[62] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

his fellows were, or where he was him- 
self. It was Canadian versus German, 
and you can guess which was the better 
side in a contest of that nature. But when 
the ambulance convoys arrived on the 
scene they found no field ambulance, no 
doctors, nothing but men fighting in dark 
ploughed fields, the grim scene lit by the 
light of star-shells, with shrapnel burst- 
ing all along the road to prevent reinforce- 
ments coming up. The ambulance people 
had to pick the wounded out of the fields 
and ditches, and get them into the cars 
as best they could, but it wa,s pretty hot 
work. A considerable number of the R. A. 
M. C. men were shot, and two of the 
wounded in the cars were killed by shrap- 
nel. And still the wounded keep pouring 
in, and still the ammunition wagons rumble 
forth to feed the dogs of war. 

April 2S, 1915- 
The tension does not abate. Indeed, 
it increases every day. The fighting is 
desperate in the extreme, and the number 
of wounded pouring in is frightful. I 
spent nine hours to-day working in one of 
the dressing stations. If any one is in 
the slightest degree responsible for this 

[63] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

war he ought to be made to spend a few 
hours in a dressing-station where cases 
come straight in from the firing Hne, some 
of whom have been lying out in the fields 
for several days. Remember that a piece 
of shrapnel is sometimes bigger than a 
hen's tggy and jagged at that, and you 
will realise that when it hits a man in the 
face it is apt to make a mess. The result 
of a similar bit which has torn open the 
abdomen and exposed the bowels is also 
not a pleasant sight. It is as if some great 
brute had trampled on the men, in Brown- 
ing's words, "pashing their life out, with 
a brute's intents." That is what they are; 
they are pashed. Under such circum- 
stances all the talk about the glory and 
glamour of war is rather apt to stick in 
one's throat. 

I am too tired to write any more. 

April 28, 191 5. 

There is only one word in the mouth 
of every one to-day — gas. Vague rumours 
of gas have been floating about, but no 
one really believed them. Now the stage 
of rumour is past, and we know the worst. 
And a very bad worst it is. 

This morning I had to go to one of the 

[64] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

casualty clearing stations, and there I saw 
a sight which for sheer ghastliness equals 
anything to be seen in any dressing station. 
The hospital is built around a great court- 
yard, and in that courtyard were two hun- 
dred men on stretchers. Some were lying 
in a state of stupor, the flies buzzing about 
their faces; some were sitting up gasping 
for breath, with hands and faces of a 
deep, dusky hue, evidently in the greatest 
distress; over the countenance of others 
the pallid hues of death were beginning 
to creep, whilst a few had fallen back and 
with gurglings in the throat were passing 
away into the undiscovered country. They 
were the first gas cases from Ypres and 
Hill 60. 

The description of the gas varied to an 
extraordinary extent. It was described 
as black, brown, yellow, green and 
white. Some said that it came from 
large hose pipes attached to cylinders, 
others that it was contained in hand 
grenades, others that it came from 
shells fired from field guns, and 
still others that a fluid was sprayed on 
to the trenches, which was then ignited 
by fire-shells. There seems to be little 
doubt that all four methods were em- 

[6s] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

ployed. It is also probable that different 
gases were used at different parts of the 
line. Most of it was brown like bromine, 
some yellow or green like chlorine, and 
the black fumes may have been due to 
the ignition of some fluid such as benzol. 
It was quite impossible to see or breathe 
in this gas, and even when the men got 
out of it the lungs and heart were so af- 
fected that they were quite unable to make 
any exertion. One and all were agreed 
that to face this new danger unprotected 
was impossible. 

The principal method seems to have 
been as follows: The gas was launched 
from cylinders, and was carried by the 
easterly breeze right on to our trenches, 
into which, being very heavy, it rolled. 
Our men had to clear out of the trenches, 
whereupon they were met by a withering 
rifle fire. A couple of hundred yards back 
there was a swell in the ground which 
sheltered them from rifle fire, but a storm 
of shrapnel burst over their heads, for 
the German gunners had the range to a 
yard, and had everything in readiness. It 
was very much the method of sending a 
ferret down a rabbit hole, and waiting at 
the other opening with a gun. 
[66] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

There Is a wounded German officer In 
hospital who says that four days ago cyl- 
inders of gas arrived In the trenches, but 
the wind was not favourable at the time, 
so they were dug Into position and used 
when the wind veered round Into the east. 
The German troops in the first line 
trenches were served out with some form 
of mask impregnated with a chemical, 
which they wore over their nose and 
mouth. Every effort is being made at 
present to secure one of these, and deter- 
mine the chemical present, but so far with- 
out success. M has gone away up 

north this evening to try to secure one 
from the German prisoners, and his re- 
turn Is anxiously awaited. Meanwhile I 
have been very busy investigating the 
blood of some of the worst cases, examin- 
ing the serum spectroscopically, In the 
hope that some indication may be afforded 
as to the nature of the gas, but up to the 
present the results have been disappoint- 
ing. 



[67] 



VII 

IN THE FIELD AGAIN 

May I, 1915. 
I HAVE returned to work in the field, 
and I cannot say that I am sorry. Last 
night I did the old round to Wulverghem 
with three waggons and a small party of 
stretcher bearers. There was no more 
shrapnel, but heaps of bullets were flying 
about. I know that it is not the general 
opinion, but I think that I prefer shells 
to rifle bullets. They frighten you more, 
but do not make you feel so remarkably 
uncomfortable. Besides, you can hear a 
shell coming, and can get out of the way, 
whereas a bullet is on you before you know 
where you are, and makes a most vindic- 
tive sound when passing in the dark, as 
if it were extremely annoyed at having 
missed you. Of course in this compari- 
son I am only referring to mild shrapnel 
shelling. Really heavy shelling with high 
explosives beats any rifle fire. 
[68] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

We had to carry the cases some dis- 
tance to the ambulance, and, as I was walk- 
ing by the side of one of the stretcher 
squads, eight bullets whizzed just over 
our heads in rapid succession, and buried 
themselves in a couple of trees which we 
happened to be passing at the moment. I 
have never seen a party of men assume 
a recumbent position more speedily, and 
when we got up we could not help laugh- 
ing. The only person who did not laugh 
was the patient, who had been shot an 
hour before almost on that very spot. The 
bullet had passed through both cheeks, al- 
though strangely enough without touch- 
ing either jaw (he must have had his 
mouth open at the time), so, while he 
might see the humour of the situation, he 
was hardly in a position to laugh. 

We got back at one o'clock, but I had 
to go out again with fresh bearers at three. 
It was a perfect morning, hot enough for 
summer, but with all the freshness of 
spring, and the country was looking 
charming. The whole land was covered 
with luxuriant growth, for there is not a 
soul at Wulverghem to till the ground. 
Everywhere was luscious green grass, full 
of tall buttercups and cuckoo flowers. 

[69] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

Here and there, forming the chief feature 
of the landscape, were great splashes of 
vivid gold, due to some tall yellow weed 
something like our mustard plant. The 
ditches contained masses of a large white 
stellaria, that looked singularly beautiful 
against the lovely green of the grass. The 
birds were in full song, all nature was 
smiling; we might have been wandering 
through English meadows. While the 
bearers were getting the patient ready I 
went into the little garden at the back of 
the aid post. The place had been con- 
verted into an English cemetery; there 
were fifteen or twenty crosses, several of 
them bearing the names of friends of 
mine, and five open graves were standing 
ready waiting for the dead of the day. 
The contrast was horrible — the lovely 
summer morning, with the song of the 
birds in the air, and those open graves 
waiting to swallow men whom pos- 
sibly one might know quite well. As I 
opened the door to leave the house a bul- 
let struck the pavement at my very feet, 
and, glancing off, wounded in the chest an 
orderly standing beside me. For a mo- 
ment my mind reverted to those empty 
[70] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

graves, but such thoughts do not last long 
on a lovely May morning. 

On the way home we had to pass 
through Neuve Eglise. It has had a very 
fair battering lately, and I was amused to 
see a notice chalked up on the door of one 
of the houses. The house next door had 
been demolished by a shell, and the house 
itself had' had a nasty knock. The whole 
affair looked as if a good push would make 
it collapse, but on the door was written: 
"Please do not touch; this house is in- 
habited." It reminded one of the "Please 
do not touch" on old relics in a museum, 
which might crumble to pieces if roughly 
handled. 

By the way, I hear that the heroic cure 
at Armentieres, who stuck to his post all 
through the winter when he was perfectly 
at liberty to leave, was killed last week. 

May 10, 1915. 
This afternoon I had again to pay a 
visit to Kemmel. Every time I go there 
it becomes more delightful, and to-day it 
was just wonderful. I started shortly 
after three, and when I got to Neuve 
Eglise I found that the Germans were 
shelling it. The detour necessary to avoid 

[71] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

the village is a long one, so I did not make 
it, and was soon quietly riding along the 
main road to Kemmel, which I reached in 

time to have tea with A . 

After tea we went for a stroll, which 
naturally took us up the hill. That walk 
was a thing to be remembered. The sun 
was sinking in the West, and the light and 
shade would have lent charm to any land- 
scape. The ditches on either side of the 
road were one mass of flowers, red, yel- 
low, blue, and white : the red campion, a 
beautiful large yellow dead nettle which 
grows everywhere, together with cowslips 
and the great water ranunculus, blue speed- 
wells, violets and forget-me-nots, and in 
the hedgerows the first white boughs of 
hawthorn. The hill itself was blue, lit- 
erally blue, with wild hyacinths, the "blue 
hyacinthine haze" of Swinburne. Half- 
way up we came upon a delightful grassy 
track running along the hillside between 
great banks of blue. From this sylvan 
path we looked down upon Ypres in the 
plain below. Every now and then a great 
column of black smoke would shoot up 
from the tortured town, and drift slowly 
away towards Poperinghe. The Bosche 
was apparently still smashing the place 

[72] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

with his 17-inch shells. Gradually these 
masses of smoke drifted together until 
they formed one huge cloud, which hung 
over the town and streamed right away to 
the horizon. The whole place must have 
been on fire, although we could make out 
no flames in the bright light. As the sun 
sank lower and lower in the west this omi- 
nous pall took on the most glorious col- 
ours, deep orange and gold, fading away 
at the margins into darkest purple. 

In the meantime an aeroplane had been 
coming up behind us, and continued to 
make for the German lines, soon dwin- 
dling to a mere black dot against the bril- 
liant blue of the sky. Suddenly, in a flash, 
in the twinkling of an eye, a little white 
ball about the size of your hand appeared 
against that brilliant blue close to the aero- 
plane. One moment there was nothing 
but the immense blue dome, the next, al- 
though you heard nothing and saw nothing 
coming, there was that little fleecy cloud 
hanging high in mid-air. In my opinion 
this is one of the most purely spectacular 
effects in the whole war. When you have 
been out here for sometime you are apt 
to grow somewhat blase, but the sight of 
an aeroplane being shelled never loses its 

[73] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

fascination. The appearance of the first 
puff of pure white shrapnel smoke against 
the deep blue of a cloudless sky is one of 
the most dramatic things you can imagine. 
The contrast in colours is perfect. You 
never get the same dazzling absolute white 
in a cloud, nor do you get a tiny isolated 
cloud against the great expanse of blue. 

The aeroplane was travelling at a good 
speed, and soon there was a long string 
of little white clouds to mark its course. 
Now and then we lost sight of it, and 
would fear that it had been hit, but on 
listening intently we could hear the faint 
drone of the engine coming down from the 
great height. Suddenly it made an abrupt 
right-angled turn, thus indicating the posi- 
tion of the hostile battery it had been ob- 
serving, and a moment later our big guns 
began to speak. And all around us were 
hyacinths and speedwells and forget-me- 
nots, and the red sun was sinking in a 
golden splendour in the west. And still 
the shrapnel burst around the aeroplane, 
and still those great columns of black 
smoke rolled up from burning Ypres. 

We descended from the hill to one of 
the batteries, and were just in time for a 
little piece of excitement. During the day 
[74] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

some of the gunners had employed their 
time constructing a dummy gun, only par- 
tially concealing it with brushwood. They 
then filled the barrel of a rifle with black 
gunpowder, and left one man in charge of 
it beside the dummy. When it was getting 
dusk, this man pulled the trigger and ran 
for his life. The gunpowder-filled rifle 
went off with a mighty roar, and a spout 
of flame issued from the barrel. The 
dummy gun was so placed that It could 
easily be seen from the German lines once 
attention was attracted towards It, and al- 
most at once several batteries began to 
pour their fire upon It. In addition to 
highly delighting our men, this little ruse 
gave us some valuable Information of the 
enemy's batteries. A battery seldom fires 
In the dusk unless greatly provoked (as 
In the present Instance), for, although it 
may be perfectly concealed by day, the tell- 
tale flash In the darkness betrays Its posi- 
tion, and next morning It will probably 
receive unwelcome attention from the op- 
posing guns. 

I stayed for dinner at Kemmel, and rode 
home In the dark afterwards. It was 
quite an Interesting ride, with star-shells 

[75] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

going up every minute right along the 
line, the continuous roll of rifle fire, and 
now and then the vicious rattle of a ma- 
chine gun, or the sullen b-o-o-m of some 
great howitzer away up at Ypres. There 
are drawbacks to riding alone at night, 
which, however, serve to heighten the in- 
terest. You may ride into a telephone 
wire which crosses the road just on a level 
with your chin, in which case your horse 
will probably finish the journey alone, or 
your horse may put his foot into a recent 
shell hole in the road, or, worst of all, a 
spy may shoot you In the back with an air 
gun, a nasty practice which Is becoming 
almost a habit in these parts. 

None of these things happened, but as 
I rode into the square of Neuve Eglise 
I thought I saw a light moving In the 
churchyard. Now it is strictly forbidden 
to show a light in the village, and as the 
square is visible from the German lines 
It seemed quite possible that some one was 
trying to signal to friend Bosche. I there- 
fore dismounted as quietly as possible, tied 
up my horse, and crept silently into the 
graveyard, taking cover behind the tomb- 
stones. But the place was absolutely de- 
[76] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

serted, and although I peered into every 
shell hole, my hopes of capturing a spy 
single-handed were doomed to disappoint- 
ment. 



[77] 



VIII 

THE BURNING OF YPRES 

May 13, 1915. 

Yesterday I came to Kemmel for four 
days' work. I arrived in the afternoon. 
Ypres cannot be seen from the village, but 
its position was still marked by the great 
cloud which hung over it, and which 
stretched away for miles like some enor- 
mous streamer. About ten o'clock the 
adjutant suggested to me that we should 
go out to see if any glow from Ypres was 
visible. It was a perfect night, brilliantly 
clear, starry, and absolutely still, what 
Stevenson would call a wonderful clear 
night of stars. Against the cloudless sky 
we could make out a great dark patch, 
the under surface of which glowed rosy 
red. We at once determined to climb the 
hill. 

That was a strange ascent. For the 
greater part of the way it lay through the 
wood, and we were continually f alHng over 

[78] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

tree trunks, tumbling Into shell holes, run- 
ning Into telephone wires, and extricating 
ourselves from barbed wire. Not a sound 
was to be heard save the croaking of the 
frogs. Suddenly we emerged from the 
tangled undergrowth on to the bare sum- 
mit of the hill, and sat down at the foot 
of the ruined tower. The scene that met 
our eyes was so solemn, so awe-inspiring 
that all conversation between us ceased. 
For at our feet lay Ypres, burning furi- 
ously. The great cloud that hung above 
it was now glowing as if some vast fur- 
nace was burning in its midst, but the cloud 
Itself appeared to be absolutely motion- 
less. Now and then great tongues of flame 
would leap up from the doomed town, 
but apart from these the whole impres- 
sion was one of rest, immobility. We felt 
that we were looking at some painted 
scene, or watching a vast stage where 
some lurid Mephistophelian drama was 
being enacted. Here and there along 
the line a star-shell would go up, 
and, bursting, light the landscape with 
a garish flare. Overhead were the quiet 
stars. Nothing broke the great silence, 
save now and then the deep, rich, solemn 
b-o-o-m of a big gun far away up north, 

[79] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

with, perhaps, an occasional crackle of 
rifles near at hand. But, as we sat, the 
stillness of the night was broken by the 
song of a bird, faint and hesitating at 
first, but gradually gathering volume, till 
the whole air was throbbing with the mel- 
ody. It was a nightingale singing in the 
wood below. We sat on, and on, and on. 
The whole town was glowing like the 
mouth of hell. Now and again some roof 
would apparently fall in, and the great 
hungry tongues of fire would lick the sky, 
but at our distance no sound broke the 
awesome stillness — only the song of the 
nightingale and the booming of guns. 

May 14, 1915- 
We had a little bit of excitement (still 
at Kemmel) about an hour ago. We were 
enjoying a smoke after dinner, when sud- 
denly a tremendous hubbub commenced. 
All the guns in the district seemed to have 
opened fire at once, and when we went 
out on the balcony the air was full of the 
rattle of maxims, the continuous roar of 
rifle fire, and the scream and bursting of 
shells. Of all awe-inspiring sounds that 
of ''rapid fire" from thousands of rifles 
is perhaps the most impressive; it is like 
[80] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

the roar of the Atlantic on some pebbly 
beach. In a few moments a message came 
in from the trenches that the enemy was 
preparing to attack, and at once the order 
went out to our three batteries, "Rapid 
battery fire." Within a minute and a half 
you could hear our guns hard at work. 
Not far from us there was a battery of 
Royal Horse Artillery, which made the 
weirdest noise, just as if a tin tray had 
been banged five times in rapid succession 
with a big stick. The uproar lasted for 
twenty minutes and then died away. The 
attack had been beaten off, and perfect 
quiet reigned in the valley. 



[8i] 



IX 

A CITY OF THE DEAD 

' May 20, igi5. 

I HAVE just paid a second visit to Ypres 
and the result is that I find it difficult to 
be articulate. At my first visit about a 
month ago the damage had been largely- 
confined to the buildings in the Grande 
Place, and those immediately surrounding 
it. The streets were full of people, shops 
were open in which I had been able to buy 
post-cards, ammunition carts and motor 
cars passed to and fro; everywhere there 
was a general feeling of liveliness and 
stir. 

But when I returned this afternoon it 
was like entering some city of the dead, 
some ancient Egyptian or Assyrian town 
which for centuries has lain under the 
sand, a place so full of the splendour of 
the past, but so forlorn and forsaken in 
the present, that an overwhelming sad- 
ness descends on all who enter its portals. 

[82] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

It was Indeed a City of the Dead. I 
passed along many of those ghastly streets 
before meeting a single soul, and then it 
was only a small patrol of military police. 
It was as if some mighty earthquake had 
shaken the town In its grasp till It fell 
Into nothingness, or as If rows of card 
houses had been built, and some relentless 
hand had swept away the bottom stories, 
so that the entire superstructure had crum- 
bled to the ground. In many places it was 
not a question of bare, shattered walls, 
but simply of confused piles of bricks and 
rubbish. Not a sound of any kind or de- 
scription v/as to be heard. In that city 
of desolation there was not a footfall on 
the pavement, not the rumble of a wheel 
on the road, not the sound of a voice, or 
the bark of a dog, or the bang of a door, 
nothing but the silence of death. "The 
cormorant and the bittern shall possess It, 
the owl also and the raven shall inhabit 
it, for he hath stretched out upon it the 
line of confusion and the stones of empti- 
ness." 

Suddenly the silence was broken by a 
sound, the wh-o-o-umph of big high explo- 
sive. Apparently the process of destruc- 
tion was not yet completed. I pushed on 

[83] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

rapidly until I came to Grande Place, and 
here the contrast was simply overpower- 
ing. A few weeks before the square was 
full of bustle and life, civilians, officers on 
horseback, transport wagons. Now it was 
absolutely empty and deserted, and I 
seemed to be alone in the city. Of the 
busy shops not a trace was left. Look- 
ing up one of the principal streets that 
runs out of the squares I could see nothing 
but crumbling, blackened walls, without 
roofs or chimneys or doors or windows. In 
one corner of the square was a smoulder- 
ing heap of dead horses. Over every- 
thing there hung the smell of mortar and 
of death. I once said that in Ypres you 
could almost *'hear the beating of the 
wings of the Angel of Death." Standing 
in that great, empty, silent square you felt 
that the Angel of Death had passed over, 
leaving nothing but that dreadful still- 
ness. 

The towers of the Cloth Hall and 
Cathedral were still standing, but so shat- 
tered that it looked as if the next shell 
would cause them to crumble into dust. I 
walked into the Cloth Hall, picking my 
way amongst the piled masses of tumbled 
masonry, and through it on to the 

[84] 




THE CITY OF THE DEAD 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

Cathedral. Almost the whole roof of the 
Cathedral was gone, and pigeons were fly- 
ing round the ruins of the organ. Every 
now and then some piece of masonry, bal- 
anced some fifty feet up, would fall with 
a crash which awoke strange echoes in 
that intense stillness. The sacristry, of 
which the roof and walls still remained, 
was a scene of the wildest confusion. 
Strewn in all directions were priests' vest- 
ments, choir books, censors, and crucifixes, 
whilst over everything lay a thick cover- 
ing of the bright yellow dust of high ex- 
plosives. By this time the square was be- 
coming rather unhealthy, so I reluctantly 
retraced my steps along the silent, echo- 
ing streets, past the old fortified walls, 
over the moat bright with water-lilies, 
and took one last backward look at the 
desolate city, around whose shattered 
spires the German shells continued to 
burst. 

June 10, 1915, 
This afternoon I had to visit the head- 
quarters of a certain division close to 
Ypres. The headquarters are in a delight- 
ful seventeenth century chateau, which 
looked a picture of perfect peace. A 
long shaded drive led up to the house, 

[8s] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

which stood in the midst of a lovely old- 
world garden. All round ran a moat in 
which floated yellow water-lilies, and as 
I slowly crossed the bridge and the per- 
fume of the roses was wafted towards me, 
the willows drooping gracefully into the 
water brought the Backs at Cambridge be- 
fore my eyes. Everywhere there was the 
hum of bees, and here and there a gilded 
butterfly hovered over a flower. 

And yet it was not all peace. About 
fifty yards away there was a huge shell 
hole, which had been made two days ago. 
A tree close to the house had been struck 
down the previous night. A sentry with 
fixed bayonet stood upon the bridge. In 
a flower-bed just in front of the main door 
were a number of dug-outs, round which 
the roses bloomed, whilst through the 
trees gleamed those wonderful shattered 
spires of Ypres, with the afternoon sun 
streaming full upon them. 

My return journey took me within half 
a mile of Ypres, and I could not resist the 
temptation of paying another visit to the 
Grande Place. Ypres is a place that one 
never tires of, and that, like some irre- 
sistible magnet, draws one back again and 
again. Hosts of tourists and globe-trot- 
[86] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

ters will come to see It in future years, but 
it will never mean the same to them as to 
those who have seen it in its utter ruin, 
and have listened to its awful silence and 
to the shells bursting in its midst. And 
they, and only they, can ever only truly 
know Ypres the beautiful, Ypres the deso- 
late. 

June i8, 191 5. 
One of the famous places on this part 
of the front is Ploegstreet, commonly 
called Plugstreet, Wood, and to-day I had 
a chance for the first time of visiting it. 
The classic wood, which is about two 
miles long and a mile wide, is a perfect 
human bee-hive. It runs along the side 
of a steep slope, and all the way up the 
slope are little huts built of logs cut from 
the wood, and covered with moss and 
creepers. These tiny huts have all sorts 
of magnificent names, and Holland House, 
Warwick House, Somerset House, and the 
Carlton are all represented. One of the 
features of the place is the network of 
"corduroy" paths which run in every di- 
rection. These paths are floored with 
bundles of twigs and wattles, and make 
very pleasant walking. Without them the 
whole place would become a morass after 

[87] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

each rain-storm. The principal thorough- 
fares bear such names as the Strand, Pic- 
cadilly, Regent Street, and the Old Kent 
Road, whilst in the centre of the wood you 
come upon Hyde Park Corner. The wood 
itself, where there was such desperate 
fighting last winter, is a charming spot, 
nested in by nightingales, and altogether 
as delightful a piece of sylvan scenery as 
you could wish to set eyes on. Anything 
more unlike war it would be difficult to 
imagine, and yet the trenches run along 
the edge of the wood, now and then a bul- 
let snaps off a branch, and if you seriously 
annoyed the Bosche he would search the 
place systematically with shrapnel or high 
explosive. 

In the evening I visited an aerodrome 
near Bailleul. It is wonderfully interest- 
ing to take your stand near the hangars 
about six o'clock, and watch the birds 
come flying home to roost. Away on the 
horizon you see a tiny speck, then an- 
other, and another. Rapidly they increase 
in size, and soon you can hear the drone 
of the engines. Now they are above the 
aerodrome, sweeping round in great cir- 
cles, ever lower and lower, till with a 
final swoop they ahght on the ground and 
[88] 




THE CHANCEL, YPRES CATHEDRAL 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

run over to the hangars. The pilot and 
observer step out, and mechanics swarm 
on to the machine, for before it goes up 
again every nut and bolt and stay have 
to be tested with the greatest care. And 
now the mechanics are busy putting little 
patches over sundry rents and tears In the 
wings of one of the machines. These 
rents were made by shrapnel bullets less 
than an hour ago. I noticed that the wings 
of some of the machines were covered 
with little white patches, which told their 
tale more eloquently than any words. 



[89] 



WARM NIGHTS ROUND HELL CORNER 

June 26, 191 5. 

We have moved at last, and are now 
at work on the Ypres salient. It was a 
perfect evening when we left Neuve 
Egllse. The shades of night were just 
beginning to fall; thin wisps of mist crept 
down the slopes into the valley; the smoke 
from the chimneys rose in great tall col- 
umns; not a breath of air stirred the thick 
foliage of the trees; the occasional notes 
of a late blackbird alone disturbed the 
quiet of the evening. The men were all 
drawn up in a field, with the long line of 
wagons trailing out behind; and as we 
moved off to the sound of one of the great 
marching songs we knew that we were en- 
tering on a new phase of our military life, 
for we were exchanging the comparative 
quiet of the line at Neuve EgHse for that 
perilous salient, the very name of which 
was enough to make the heart beat faster. 

[90] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

As the night darkened the mist grew 
denser, and soon everything took on a 
most mysterious appearance. We passed 
little bivouacs in fields, and copses with 
fires burning brightly in front of them; 
camps consisting of rows of huts guarded 
by motionless figures, who would suddenly 
step into the middle of the road and give 
a sharp challenge; and wagons of ammu- 
nition drawn by mules passing from the 
ammunition column far in the rear up to 
the batteries a couple of miles behind the 
firing line — all dim and mysterious in the 
uncertain light. It was after one when 
we reached the grass field which was our 
destination, and, laying ourselves down on 
the ground, we were soon wrapt in slum- 
ber. 

Last night work on the salient began. 
Our camp is some miles behind Ypres, so 
the plan is to take the stretcher bearers 
up In motor ambulances to a point on the 
other side of the town, and from there to 
start the work of collecting. Another of- 
ficer and I were in charge of the party on 
the first night, and as I took my seat be- 
side the driver of the first car, with the 
long column of twelve cars stringing out 

[91] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

behind, I felt that we were probably in 
for an interesting evening. 

We soon struck the great road running 
from Poperinghe through Vlamertinghe 
to Ypres, a road which is at present one 
of the most fascinating in the world. I 
know of no highway which touches the 
imagination to anything like the same ex- 
tent. For along that road must pass 
every person and every vehicle, all the 
infantry, the guns, the ammunition, the 
ration carts, the motor ambulances, the 
stretcher bearers, bound for that famous 
but perilous salient which bends forwards 
like some great bow in front of Ypres. 
In the gathering gloom we passed small 
bodies of infantry moving up, guns with 
ammunition limbers, supply wagons, and 
one queer little vehicle like a farmer's trap 
drawn by a mule, and piled up with a 
varied assortment of articles which I could 
not recognize in the uncertain light, but 
which I suspect was furniture for officers' 
dug-outs. And always you had the feel- 
ing that ahead of you lay Ypres, and be- 
yond was that terrible salient which was 
going to absorb all this humanity, but 
which would never give it all up again. 

Presently we reached the outskirts of 

[92] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

Ypres, and drove slowly through the 
streets with fifty yards between each car, 
so that we should not lose them all if a 
shell landed in the middle of the convoy. 
As we passed through the Square the tow- 
ers of the Cathedral and Cloth Hall 
loomed mysteriously through the mist, like 
the twisted and fantastic pinnacles of some 
mountain peak which had been blasted by 
fire and riven by ice before man and his 
wars ever appeared on the globe. 

Our route lay along the Menin road, 
which runs through Hooge, the apex of 
the salient. Now the Menin road leaves 
the town at the Menin Gate. At this point 
the road narrows, and crosses the moat 
by a bridge, which is so sand-bagged that 
only one vehicle can pass at a time. This 
Is a very nasty little bit, for the Germans 
know that all the traffic leaving Ypres has 
to cross this bridge, and they have the 
range to a yard. By day it is quiet 
enough, but at night it is no place for lin- 
gering. As ill luck would have it, when 
we reached the bridge we found that a gun 
was stuck half-way across, and it was im- 
possible to pass. For ten minutes we had 
to stay In that delightful spot without 
cover of any kind, but it seemed a long, 

[93] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

long time. The type of shell used by the 
Bosche for this little bit of work is the 
"Whizz-bang," which travels at a very 
high speed with a flat trajectory, and 
almost before you have heard the shell 
approaching it has burst — whizz-bang! 
Whizz-bangs were going off all round, 
lighting up the darkness in a highly the- 
atrical manner, but one did not fully ap- 
preciate the fine dramatic effect till after- 
wards. Just before the bridge was cleared 
there came a specially heavy shower of 
these fireworks, and when at length the 
way was open it was a fine sight to see 
the wagons storming madly past in a wild 
gallop to the comparative quiet of the road 
beyond. 

Some distance along the road we left 
the ambulances in the shelter of some 
ruined houses, and visited a certain house, 
whose position need not be specified, which 
was used as advanced headquarters by 
several brigades. The object of our call- 
ing there was to find out the number of 
casualties reported from the trenches, and 
also to ascertain the state of a certain 
pleasant place some distance ahead, which 
rejoiced in the name of Hell Fire Corner, 
or Hell Corner for short. 

[94] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

The various headquarters were situ- 
ated In the extensive cellars of the house, 
which presented a remarkable sight. The 
corridors were filled with men lying on the 
floor fast asleep, many of them engineers 
responsible for repairing the telephone 
wires between headquarters and the 
trenches. The numerous cellars were con- 
verted into comfortable rooms, some used 
as offices, with clerks, typewriters and 
telephones all complete, others fitted up 
as living rooms for the brigadiers and 
brigade staffs. You could hear the shells 
screaming and banging overhead, and the 
shelter of the cellars seemed so acceptable 
that one was loth to leave them. 

Hell Corner was reported to be quiet 
that night, and when we got there we 
found that the report was accurate, so we 
proceeded along the main road to Zille- 
beke for some distance, till we reached the 
footpath which runs up to the trenches. 
One is very apt to miss this path on a dark 
night, but fortunately just at the point 
where it commences a dead horse lies in 
the ditch. Judging from the physical 
signs, it must have lain there for many 
months, and, however dark the night, I 

[95] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

have never heard of any one who has 
missed that landmark. 

We were now entering the region of 
bullets which come sweeping across from 
the two sides of the salient, as well as from 
the line Immediately In front. It is this 
cross fire which is accountable for the 
large number of casualties occurring in 
parties trying to reach the comparative 
shelter of the trenches, for the road is 
without cover of any kind. When we 
reached the ruin known as Sniper's Farm 
a furious burst of rapid fire commenced 
on our left, and in a moment the air was 
literally humming. It was the warmest 
five minutes we have had yet, but sud- 
denly the firing died away, and thereafter 
we only encountered the regulation amount 
of lead. 

We were bound for a place called the 
Dump, where the wounded are collected. 
It lies on the edge of a wood close behind 
the trenches. The Dump is not a very 
cheerful spot on a dark night. If you 
have not much to do you listen to the bul- 
lets whistling through the trees, snapping 
off branches, and burying themselves in the 
trunks, and the shells passing overhead on 
their way to Hell Corner, and the Menin 
[96] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

Gate. There was one big German gun 
which went off every three or four min- 
utes, and sent an enormous shell roaring 
through the air with very much the noise 
that a train makes going through a tun- 
nel. It seemed to go a tremendous dis- 
tance, for the noise of the explosion came 
back a long time afterwards as a very 
faint sound indeed. We felt sorry for the 
people at the place where the shell burst. 

We left the Dump at midnight, and had 
a pleasant journey back past Sniper's 
Farm and the dead horse, round Hell 
Corner, through the Menin Gate and 
Ypres to our camp, which we reached at 
2.30, just as dawn was beginning to break, 
and the first lark was commencing his 
morning song of praise. 

This is a lovely, quiet, sunny morning, 
and when I look back upon last night — 
the darkness, the fireworks display at the 
Menin Gate, the pandemonium around 
brigade headquarters, the hail of bullets at 
Sniper's Farm — it all seems unreal, im- 
possible, unimaginable. 

June 27, 1915. 

Last night we had an even more inter- 
esting time than on the previous night, and 
our experiences were delightfully varied. 

[97] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

X was in charge of the party, whilst 

I acted as his subaltern. There was a 
full moon, and as we passed through 
Ypres, the shattered city looked strangely 
mournful and impressive. Perfect quiet 
reigned at the Menin Gate, and we began 
to think that we were in for an uneventful 
evening. We were mistaken. 

As we approached brigade headquar- 
ters things began to liven up, and no 
sooner had we entered than a shell 
dropped in the courtyard and wounded 
three men. We made our way along the 
subterranean passages and entered the 
brigadier's room. We had not been there 
a couple of minutes when suddenly there 
was a tremendous explosion outside the 
skylight, a paper which X was read- 
ing was torn from his hand, the lamp was 
blown out, and the whole place plunged 
in darkness. While the lamp was being 
relit another shell struck the building 
somewhere in the upper story. As the 
officers' servants were quartered there, one 
of the officers mounted the stairs to see 
what had happened. He returned in a 
state of great agitation, saying that, al- 
though none of the men were hurt, most 
of the bottles of wine which were stored 

[98] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

there had been broken. As we retreated 
our steps along the passages we found 
them filled with the smoke of shells, and 
when we emerged into the open things had 
become very lively indeed. The Germans 
had apparently discovered that the place 
was being used as headquarters, and were 
evidently determined that it should never 
be used as such again. Even as we 
watched, an incendiary shell fell on our 
end of the building, and a great burst of 
flame showed that it had accomplished its 
mission. 

We had not proceeded far along the 
Menin road when a shell burst on the road 
a little way in front of us. When we 
reached the spot I noticed something lying 
In the ditch, and on stooping down found 
it was the form of a man. Placing my 
hand on his head, I found that it was cov- 
ered with a hot, sticky fluid — evidently 
blood. There was a fair-sized hole in the 
back of the head where a bit of his skull 
had been blown away. His heart still 
beat, so we put on his first field dressing 
and bandaged him up as best we could, 
although of course we did not dare to 
show a light of any description. The 
Bosche often sends four shells on to one 

[99] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

spot before altering his range, and one 
could not help wondering when number 
two was going to arrive. The sense of ex- 
pectation became positively painful. 

When we got as far as Hell Corner we 
found things comparatively quiet, for all 
the shells were passing over our heads, 
and the rest of the journey going to the 
Dump was carried out in great comfort. 
From the Dump we could see a great, red 
glare on the Menin road, indicating the 
fate that had overtaken our headquarters. 
Our adventures for the night, however, 
were not over. While the bearers were 

getting the wounded together, X and 

I had to proceed a little farther on. Now 

X looks more like a German than 

any Englishman I know; in a pickel haube 
he would be a perfect Prussian. Result — 
we find ourselves arrested as spies, and 
marched off at the point of the bayonet. 
Explanation is apt to be difficult and a 
trifle confused in a dark wood at the top 
of the Ypres salient, but eventually we 
managed to clear our characters, and de- 
parted on our way rejoicing. 



[100] 



XI 

A DINNER IN GOGGLES 

July 3, IQ15. 

Yesterday evening I rode over to the 
artillery position for a dinner party which 

A gave in his dug-out. We were a 

party of six, and just managed to squeeze 
into the place. We had reached the third 
course when a shell exploded in our field, 
followed by another and another. In a 
few moments we experienced the most in- 
tense irritation of the eyes, and the tears 
coursed down our cheeks to such an ex- 
tent that it was impossible to see what 
we were eating. This was an evening 
"straaf" with gas shells, a form of attack 
which the Bosche is rather fond of using 
against our artillery. At first it appeared 
that the dinner party was going to be seri- 
ously interfered with, but our host speed- 
ily furnished each guest with a pair of 
rubber-rimmed goggles, and the meal was 
continued in comfort, for the action of 

[lOl] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

this form of gas is largely confined to 
the eyes. The chemical used is probably 
xylyl bromide. Soon, however, one of 
our heavy guns close by began to reply to 
the German battery, and each time the gun 
fired, the acetylene lamp, by which alone 
our dining-room was lighted, went out. 
One of the guests was forthwith stationed 
under the lamp with a box of matches, and 
after that all went merry as a marriage 
bell. I have seldom been present at a 
more enjoyable dinner party, although the 
begoggled appearance of the guests might 
have appeared a little unusual to a 
stranger suddenly introduced. 

The variety of shells which one encoun- 
ters in this district is extraordinary. Each 
bears the particular name with which it 
has been christened by that master of 
nomenclature, Thomas Atkins, and when 
he gives a name to a person or thing you 
may as well save yourself the trouble of 
trying to find anything more suitable. 
The great H.E. (high explosive) shells, 
fired as a rule from howitzers, used to be 
called "Black Marias" or "coal boxes," 
but nowadays they are almost universally 
known as "crumps." In order to appre- 
ciate the descriptive accuracy of this name 
[102] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

you should be near (but not too near) 
one when it goes off. The sound is a 
long-drawn kr-r-r-r-ump, or sometimes 
who-o-o-umph. The "whizz-bang" whizz- 
es and bangs, and the "pip-squeak," a 
little harmless fellow more or less of the 
nature of a squib, makes a little squeak 
which merely arouses mirth if you do not 
happen to be on the spot where the squeak 
takes place. The "woolly bear" produces 
a very pretty effect when bursting in the 
air. But the queerest shell of all is known 
as "Silent Sue" or "rubber heels." The 
great howitzer shell gives you such ample 
warning that you have almost time to go 
home, should you wish to get out of the 
way; in the case of the whizz-bang you can 
fall on your face before the burst takes 
place; but silent Sue gives no warning of 
her approach. She merely arrives, and 
that is the end of the matter. The nature 
of that end depends entirely on whether 
or not you happen to be on the spot to 
receive her. 



[103] 



XII 

LAST DAYS AT THE FRONT 

July i6, 191 5. 

At last our work at Ypres is ended, 
and we have moved a couple of miles 
south, only, however, to find ourselves at 
Hill 60 — out of the frying pan into the 
fire. We live in a line of dug-outs in a 
certain embankment, and bring the wound- 
ed down the railway cutting which runs 
right up to the famous hill. As the Ger- 
mans hold the hill, and have a battery of 
whizz-bangs which fire right down the en- 
tire length of the cutting, the conditions 
of work are apt at times to be unpleasant, 
and we have had a number of men hit. 

In front of my dug-out there is a nar- 
row field, and exactly opposite is a little 
red-roofed farm, which is used as brigade 
headquarters. The Bosche must have dis- 
covered this fact, and this afternoon about 
five o'clock we had quite a pretty piece of 
shelling. Fortunately I was at home, and 
[104] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

was able to sit in my doorway and watch 
the show. The first shell dropped on the 
far side of the farm, but the range was 
shortened at once, and the next one landed 
in the middle of the field, wounding one of 
our men who was sitting at the door of his 
dug-out. Soon shells began to pour In, 
and for five or ten minutes things were 
pretty lively. Presently they began to hit 
the farm, and great clouds of red brick- 
dust went up, but no serious damage was 
done. The brigade staff retired Into cel- 
lars and dug-outs, and only two men were 
wounded. The shooting was not up to 
the usual Bosche standard, for the farm 
was only hit three times, but for all that 
the field was no place for a promenade for 
some time. The worst of It was that this 
little performance came on just as we were 
beginning to prepare tea, and as our 
cooking-place Is on the far side of the field, 
we had to put off our meal for half an 
hour. 

A few nights ago H distinguished 

himself. He found the narrow path com- 
pletely blocked by a wagon which had 
come to grief, and which was toppling on 

the extreme edge of a steep bank. H 

was unable to get his ambulance past, so 

[los] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

he ordered his men to push the offending 
wagon right over the bank. Needless to 
say there was no officer in charge of the 
wagon. When this had been successfully 
accomplished, he enquired what was in 
the wagon, and was told that it was full 
of bombs ! Truly, as old Blougram said, 
we live upon ''the dangerous edge of 
things." 

July 20, 1915. 

For weeks and months we have lived 
surrounded by death, seeing it every day, 
and yet you never truly realise what it 
means till it comes home to you in a really 
personal way. A few yards from my dug- 
out lived one who was very dear to me, 
a fellow of most singular charm, an ath- 
lete of international reputation, one of 
those men who make sunshine in the 
world. Yesterday he was standing with 
several men by the water-cart, when a shell 
burst close to the group and killed my 
friend instantaneously. And so that is 
the end of it all. I can only think of some 
lines I came across a short time ago : 

O'er countless mounds on the wide grey plain 
The crosses stand against the sky; 

For requiem, the sullen roar 

Of cannon, as the wind sweeps by. 

[106] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

And he lies there ; why do we weep ? 
God giveth our beloved — sleep. 

What did we hope for him we loved? 

Life full and fair, success, renown? 
Nay, greater fame can no man win 

Than a life laid nobly down 
For England's needs; a soldier's death; 
God giveth him — the Victor's wreath ! 

What matters Time, if he fulfilled 
God's promise in the day of need? 

Outweighs a hundred empty years 
One glorious hour, one noble deed. 

We asked full life, O God, of Thee, 

And Thou didst give — Eternity! 

August 9, 191 5. 
To-day a desperate fight is raging at 
Hooge, the apex of the salient. Or rather 
it was raging, for by now we have captured 
the positions which were our objective, 
and have beaten off the German counter- 
attacks. The attack was timed to start 
at 4 A.M. and at 2.15 the artillery prepa- 
ration commenced. And what a com- 
mencement that was! It was as if we 
listened to the opening bars of some sub- 
lime symphony blared out upon the trum- 
pets with accompanying crash of drums 
and cymbals, as in the opening of Beetho- 
ven's C minor symphony. About a dozen 

[107] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

9. 2^8 opened the ball with one stupendous 
roar, followed by a hush in which no sound 
could be heard but the shriek and whine 
of the shells as they hurtled through the 
air; and then with a crash the full orches- 
tra joined in, with a running accompani- 
ment on the fiddles that rose and fell, but 
never ceased, for the men working the 
field guns had unlimited food for those 
hungry mouths. And over all came the 
diapason of the great organ as the heavi- 
est guns in the army volleyed and thun- 
dered upon those trenches that had to be 
taken at all costs. The whole air was 
filled with the whine and sough of the 
great shells, as the whole sky was lit by 
the fearful light of those great tongues 
of flame. Along the horizon there was 
nothing but the glare of bursting shells, 
spouts of flame from the guns, and end- 
less star-lights going up along the whole 
line. At four o'clock the bombardment 
slackened for a moment, as our men swept 
forward to the attack; but at once the 
guns started off again, this time with 
lengthened range, so as to catch the sup- 
ports that were certain to be hurried up. 

As dawn gradually brightened in the 
east our aeroplanes began to arrive upon 

[108] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

the scene In order to guide the guns In the 
work of destruction. The Incessant can- 
nonade lasted tin 7.30, and then gradu- 
ally died away. 

August 15, igis. 

To-morrow I leave France. I have just 
come In from a walk along the Ypres road. 
It Is a dark, still night. The roads are 
deserted; not a hght Is to be seen In any 
of the cottages; In the next field you can 
hear the restless movements of the horses 
of an ammunition column. A quiet, silent 
countryside. But, afar off, the star-shells 
are shooting up like great white rockets; 
the rattle of a machine-gun sounds faint 
and thin; and every now and then the 
deep-toned b-o-o-m of a great gun floats 
through the stillness of the night like the 
solemn knell of the passing bell. The fas- 
cination of these sounds of war is great, 
how great you only realise when you are 
about to leave them. 

It is strange, almost Incomprehensible, 
but to-night I must admit that I am filled 
with melancholy. Often and often you 
wish that you had never set foot In this 
stricken land, where death stalks beside 
you by day, and takes you by the arm as 
you walk the roads at night, and yet the 

[109] 



With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 

life has a peculiar fascination of its own. 
All pleasure depends on contrast, and the 
contrast between the discomfort of a 
bullet-swept road and the shelter of a dug- 
out, between Hell Corner at night and the 
quiet safety of the camp next morning, 
provides an intensity of pleasure which 
only those who have experienced it can 
realise. 

If, as Aristotle says, tragedy purifies 
the mind through terror and pity, much 
more does war thoroughly purge it of all 
dross. For war is the great tester; it 
brings out the best that is in a man, even 
as also it brings out the worst that is in 
him. "The beauty and the terror of the 
world" have never held so much meaning 
for me as during these past months. And 
to-morrow I am going to leave it behind, 
perhaps for ever. Farewell, O Ypres, 
farewell, Menin Gate, Hell Corner, the 
Dump, and Kemmel Hill, a long farewell ! 



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